


U.S-CA relations

by mapledrink



Category: fdsfkdskfdskfkemk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-02 11:45:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4058779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mapledrink/pseuds/mapledrink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>lalalala<br/>Nixdeau fic numero tercera; I did not have U.S relations with that Québécois</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stupidsexynixon](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=stupidsexynixon).



"Get the damn press out of here..!" Richard demanded of his cohorts. Pierre, sitting besides him, was confuddled by this-- though he nodded in mutual understanding. The dark browed President turned to the Prime Minister and snatched his hand, patting it gentle. "Don't worry Mister Prime Minister-- Its nothing to fret over."

This would be considered either their fourth or third meeting. There was a whitehouse party before it, to add on top of it, coats and all. Pierre had been invited, and he dressed rather accordingly-- but without a date or seriousness.. which led him to leave unnanounce . Nixon was disheartened by this. Now that he was with him again, he needed answers from this supposed

"Canada's World Leader" with his childish antics and whatnot.

Pierre tutted, though his was calm face grew a tad impatient.

"Ah, er, Mr. President, I don't mean to rain on your presidential parade, but I need to get going now. .." The soft-spoken PM smiled awkwardly, not one to beat around the bush. "You're not gonna leave early on me again, are you Pierre?" Nixon began; "Its only 1 hour past the clock. The UN officials gave us that extra hour for a reason. And It's not nearly dark in Montreal time--"

"-- uh how considerate of you for doing your homework on my /personal/ affairs-.." The faintly French accent of the PM sounded impatient, and he swallowed irritatedly as the last Toronto Globe News reporter closed the door behind him, leaving them alone in the spacious hall once again.

"Now that we're alone--" The president's deep drawl lingered in the air-- and the shy cloud of timidness that hung over Pierre Trudeau soon transitioned from polite to boiling acrinomy.

"What, 'now that we're alone' ?" Pierre groaned.

Nixon continued; " We US-Canada world leaders have to stick together-- we've got a special relation that deserves a better and more informal 'bond', you and I--"

Nixon caressed the prime ministers hand, slowly running his ring finger from his wrist to the curve of his curvacious hip--.

"Oh, Mister President please..." Pierre crossed his arms and propelled his own chair away from The President's with one kick on the ground.

"Don't act like you never wanted it!" Richard snapped, but a hint of a smile was brewing on his old, groused facade. Pierre pouted as he shrugged-- for a second. The Prime Minister was after all, best at not letting his gaurd down... in appearance, anyhow.

"It was only a touch of the lips, Mister President. For the brass, distinguished American you are, I'm sure you'll understand--"

"Oh,"

The Tricky Dick interjected again; he wasn't convinced-- and he wasn't a quitter. "Well, if you don't agree to my little proposition, Mister Prime Minister, then I'll have my little reporter posse plant a story on you that the whole WORLD will see... So don't you dare take that fine little ass of yours out of that seat! " The Prime Minister was undaunted by the threat of tabloids.. Silly reporters did no harm to him.

but -- that compliment, however, got under his skin-- But oh that Tricky Dick was a total sleaze. It made him squirm in his seat a little.-- Richard Nix had that voice that demanded to be reckoned with-- He could tell he was already getting a kick out of this. And so did Pierre. Richard had gotten his attention now.

"Oh, for Godsakes.. ." Pierre began, tugging at his own shirt collar. A beautiful, flamboyant tie that brought out the greatness in his own light blue eyes. Was that cold sweat he felt? He loosened his tie, with his unflappable eyes looking back at big, bad Richard Nixon.

Oh mon dieu... Did it just get hot in here?

The right and honourable Pierre Trudeau stood up from his seat, turning his heel toe, his back to the president and yet, as confident as he was, he bit his lip in ponder. The crooked and soon, un-honourable Tricky Dick Nixon stood up, and Pierre waited for him to approach him.

Pierre whined soundly, suddenly feeling those rough, calloused hands of Nixon's slide around his waist.

"I've been wanting this ever since the day I saw your hot little prime minestral ass come in here.. " Richard's hands crawled down his waist, squeezing such 'prime minstral' ass in its all glory..

Pierre clicked his tongue and shivered-- . "You really know how to be romantic do you?" He could feel his breathe fall down his collar-- the Presiden gripped his strong thigh ahold of his ... Inches away from grabbing the front of his --

"Oh, Fuddle Duddle!"

and he instantly fell to his touch, and onto the couch. like a spell, he was turned on. - Trudeau was a bon vivant; a bachelor-- he was everything Nixon could have hoped for. He was envious that Trudeau had the world at the end of his finertips-- not a fret in mind. Sure, Nixon had all of that already. He just wanted so much more. and that 'more' was Pierre Eliotte Trudeau.

"Sit on my godamn desk" Nixon patted the surface, very territorial. And Trudeau hopped up, (not without a vulgar gesture) pushing papers off desks and they both, in basic sense, grabbed at each other-- both clothed in their own sweat.

Richard was panting, and Pierre cursed in Francais.

 

 

\----

Pierre had exterted himself in worse situations far more strenuous than this before. It was certainly no walk in park, and was certainly less the strength of doing a one handed push-up. But This Prime Minister of Canada will try anything once. Though his hips flared and he burned from within, he could suck it up and push through. It was Richard Nixon he was worried about.

"M-mister President... " The Québécois murmuered, looking down at his reclined partner underneath him. "are you alright? ?"

Nixon, emotionally, wasn't all there-- in fact, he was already falling to pieces underneath him. His eyes rolled back and he groaned low in his throat, quickly regretting the fact he let Pierre take control of the position. And to think; Pierre WAS the one recieving, saddled up ontop of him and everything-- but it sure didn't feel like it.. . HE was the one who was supposed to be doing the pleasuring, dammit! How'd he get the upper hand? That sunnavabitch Trudeau ruined his plans...

"No no, Its Just'-... " Nixon's voiced rumbled more thickly than he ever intended, disguising his anguish.. God, it felt so good being buried so deep in the prime minister like this -- though his did an half-assed job at nailing it at being the 'top' one-- no pun intended.

Pierre's beady blue eyes were already clouded and fluttering closed... and open. He must have been doing a great job. Had to. The Prime Minister's angelic-like moans still rang with every small movement he made-- and Tricky Dick sure liked that. Richard's hands went to Pierre's bottom-- oh that luscous bottom of his -- pulling his cute little PM snug against his crotch.

"Tricky Dick's gotcha... "


	2. canadian bacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stoopid smexy nix makes it up to truedough

"M-mister President? Mmmm " Pierre brushed away the sweaty hair from his forehead, yawning a big gracious yawn as he leaned on his grand pillow.

"Uhm. Mister Prez?"

Pierre groand and he pushed his palms againts the bed, stretching out his back like a feline-- shaking the jitters out of his system. God it felt so weird, getting himself ready in someone else's bed like this

 

There was the sound of bacon sizzling, the smell of grease and eggs-- the delightful warmth of a breakfast. 

God could it be... Just like how Mama used to make it? 

No, it was to good to be true...

 

"Good morning Mister prime Ministerr~~~" Came the timid drawl of an enlightened president from behind closed doors, shoving the hinges open and he carried his tray full of mighty sustenance.

 

"Oh my, Mister President~ you shouldn't have... You really.... "  
"Say no more, Mister Prime Minister-- breakfast is on me. I gave you quite fine damn working last night, did I not?"

Nixon gave a wink as he pulled the tin cover off reveal a feast of prime, old fashioned Canadian bacon-- a feast for two.

 

?

 

"Uh, yes~ Oh, Mister President.... " Trudeau was right about to pull the covers off himself to hug him, but Nixon shushed him back into bed, setting the food on the night stand and pouncing on the prime minster like a kid to a stuffed animal--

 

"I love you. I just possibly cannot spend a morning without you here~." and he wrung his hands around him, chin ontop of his head, back pressed against his back in a non-sexual agression manner of noodling under the covers--

 

Trudeau could remember the last time he was held hostage like this, in all his travels in the middle east-- oh, it certainly wasn't like this where'd he expect to be held here in the states.


End file.
